


Winter-Delenda-Est

by ominousrum



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Killian to the rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousrum/pseuds/ominousrum
Summary: It wasn’t until she was locking the front door, coin purse and case files between her teeth, that she noticed the snow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> from alchemistc's prompt: "We’re both trying to get to work but this March snowstorm came out of nowhere and my car isn’t going to get any farther up this hill without help so maybe you could stop honking at me and do something constructive. Oh god you’re a good looking asshole."

There were few things Emma Swan liked about March as a month in general. An excuse to get absolutely shitfaced on St. Patrick’s Day, Shamrock shakes, the chance to stock up on discounted Creme Eggs if Easter happened to fall within the month that particular year. Freak blizzards just in time for her morning commute definitely did not make the list. 

Of course when it had been all balmy spring breezes the weekend prior, she had had her snow tires swapped out for her regular all-seasons (of fucking _course_ she had, that was the way the crappy universe _worked_ ). She didn’t like to follow the weather religiously at the best of times but weather didn’t remotely exist when there were Netflix binges of Gilmore Girls to be had. 

She was slow to rise that Monday morning, quietly cursing the vast quantities of ice cream consumed at 3am she was sure had contributed to her nightmares. There was no doubt ice cream was the culprit for her favourite black dress having magically shrunk at least a size overnight. Before she knew it she was running late for work. 

Her to-go coffee mug still had Friday’s dregs sticking to the bottom; a proper wash dismissed for the time-saving hot water rinse before she pouring the morning’s efforts in. Emma braided her hair at breakneck speed while wolfing down a yogurt.

It wasn’t until she was locking the front door, coin purse and case files between her teeth, that she noticed the snow. Much growling and a few choice expletives later she’s ditched her heels for fleece-lined boots and shovelled a path wide enough to manoeuvre her canary Bug out of her driveway. 

Emma drove carefully despite the knowledge that the minutes until she was expected at the social services office were rapidly ticking away. Better to arrive late and alive than to T-bone a telephone pole en route. 

The majority of the snow on the ground was fluffy enough to navigate without too much concern - the worst part of winter usually snow clumping to her front axle. For rush hour it was far quieter than Emma expected, the unspoken rule of “everyone all crawl along and no one gets hurt” seemingly the consensus.  All was relatively smooth, if not excruciatingly slow, sailing until she reached the hill.

If she hadn’t been focusing so completely on just making it the next few feet until she reached work, she would have opted to take a detour. She probably would have noticed all but two or three cars had abandoned her current course. 

It’s not even that big of a hill and it’s nearly manageable for the first third of the way up then it’s suddenly all ice under powder and the wheels are spinning helplessly. “Seriously?” Emma sighs, smacking the steering wheel for good measure. 

The useless asshole directly behind her tries to make a move into the lane oncoming lane, coming dangerously close to her bumper in the process. An asshole behind the useless one has the splendid idea to start honking as loud and as often as they can. 

She tries to wave the two assholes around her (barely restraining herself from flipping them off in the process) and Useless Asshole finally gets back into the proper lane a few feet ahead, the man’s angry mouthing met with her most withering stare as he passes. 

Honking Asshole pulls up to fill the void behind her with an indignant beep, and with that the proverbial straw snaps the camel firmly in two as Emma practically kicks the driver side door open, hands balling into fists. She’ll _push_ the fucking car if she has to. 

She’s ready to glare like she’s never glared before until Honking Asshole gets the picture. Then she catches a good look at his face and has to make a concentrated effort to stop her knees from wobbling. 

The man in the vintage onyx Camaro is all dark scruff and piercing blue eyes and eyebrows controlled like marionettes. A smile races across his lips as he watches her a second, taking his time opening his own car door. Emma’s mouth snaps closed as the door thuds shut. 

“I see you’ve finally caught on to the fact that I can’t actually move and you’re here to help?” Emma says, voice mercifully recovered in time to snark as he saddles up to her.  

He opens his mouth to speak but stops to shake into laughter, the leather of his jacket swishing softly at the movement. 

“What?” Emma demands, determined to ignore the urge to smile at the most beautiful man she’s ever seen. 

“You’ve got a yogurt lid stuck to your hair, love.” He moves to pull the offending article out of her hair as she stands agape. 

_How in the holy hell does he get away with that accent in addition to that face?_

“Great, fantastic,” she mutters, smoothing a hand through her braid, catching strawberry residue among the strands. 

“Now then, you need some help getting this brightly coloured vessel up this hill, do you?”

“Traction is really not happening.” Emma sighs, pushing the sleeves of her peacoat up.

“I love a challenge,” he purrs with the slyest of winks at the ready. Her eyes automatically roll but her cheeks flush their betrayal at the sight. 

They set to work forcing the Beetle up the hill and it’s all they can do to keep from slipping themselves, digging their heels into the soft white of the road. The handsome stranger loses his grip on the bumper and Emma manages to grab his collar before he faceplants, his elbow catching the brunt of the impact. She can barely stop giggling after that. 

“You’d best get back in now, love. We’re close enough to the top you should be alright on the way down.” 

_Don’t think of the euphemisms, Emma. Don’t do it.  
_

“Thank you-.” 

“Killian.”

“Killian. Thanks.”

“Would you do me the honour of a proper introduction, love? I’d hate to keep calling you Beautiful Yogurt Woman in my head.”

“Emma.” Her stomach flips a second at the “beautiful” as her eyes roll again. Surely he elicits this reaction _often_.

She moves to get back in the car, flashing another smile of gratitude at him. 

“Emma? It seems to me we’ve both had a pretty terrible Monday and it’s not even half past 10. What do you say we drown our collective sorrows with a drink or two tonight?” Killian’s hopeful grin may just be the thing that turns her day around. 

“The Rabbit Hole. 8pm,” Emma confirms. 

The sun makes an appearance from behind the clouds, winter melting slowly into submission as a grin of her own refuses to leave her face.


End file.
